


Between supposed lovers

by ledeuxiemesexe



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Football | Soccer, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:58:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledeuxiemesexe/pseuds/ledeuxiemesexe
Summary: How the first five Clasicos influence Gerard and Cristiano's relationship started in their Manchester United days.
Relationships: Gerard Piqué/Cristiano Ronaldo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Between supposed lovers

It was not a relationship. This was what both of them would agree on, if asked. Cristiano would probably use the terms lovers, loosely so. Gerard would most likely be more explicit and use the term fuck buddies.

But if both had to be honest and upon thorough thinking about their status, they would admit were neither, more like something in between. The emotions shared between them, at least in their Manchester days, were few and rather obscure. But they did more than just random fucking.

They would hang out and play video games for hours, slouched on Cristiano's comfortable couch, sometimes their thighs touching, sometimes their bodies pressed together; sometimes when the playstation games were over, won or lost or drawn, they would just sit in silence, the silence of a big empty house, letting their thoughts wander.

They didn't drink, because Cristiano didn't. They didn't fuck when they had met just to play console games, because Gerard felt odd about it. They didn't play console games when they had met just to fuck, because Cristiano didn't feel it was appropriate. They didn't talk about what they were and what they were doing, because both were uneasy and disliked labeling.

They just were, two boys sharing time and space and feeling good in the other's company. The degree of comfort was always most satisfying.

Then, Manchester United knocked Barcelona out in the Champions League semifinals and the first strain of tension emerged. It wasn't that Cristiano particularly disliked Barcelona, more Gerard taking his team's win over his boyhood club in a dramatic fashion.

"You play for United! Remember that. You're a professional. Remember that too. Now get out of my house, I can't stand you when you're drunk and I don't have to."

Their first and only fight. Then, Gerard transferred to Barcelona. And on their goodbye night, they made a pact.

"If our teams meet, and we have to play each other, no matter the result, we have to see each other that very night. We have to spend the night together."

"Because what we shared here is special and nothing should come between us."

Sealed with a handshake and a kiss. And then intense fucking, of lovers soon to part. It was that night, their last in the same city together, that they functioned and acted most like lovers.

*

In their first year apart, their teams met only once, in the Champions League final. The night Barcelona triumphed over Manchester United was the night something changed forever about how Cristiano perceived Gerard.

Because the Catalan had seemingly forgotten about his old friend, that he had forgotten about the pact, as he wildly made laps of the stadium, gurgling champagne and chasing his teammates around, and most of all, ignoring Cristiano.

No time for losers, right? He would bitterly think about it that entire night, rejection adding to the bitter weight of losing. Minutes passed and sleep eluded him, the darkness thinning into dawn as Cristiano sat in bed, as awake as he had been when he put head to pillow, dark thoughts crossing his mind.

He was not going to be overlooked, he would not stand for it. It wasn't like he loved Gerard, after all, they only fucked a few times, and it wasn't like he had longed for him all year long. But they had an agreement. And Gerard had broken it. He had to pay, because Cristiano did not deserve to feel this dejected over someone he didn't even love.

That morning, as dawn spread its rosy light across the sky of Rome, Cristiano decided he would make Gerard pay for this, for getting carried away and being a bad, terrible winner. That was the moment when Cristiano decided to transfer to Real Madrid. This way, he would ensure two things, at least 2 set games between his and Gerard's teams and that he would be able to humiliate the other man, victorious and having completely forsaken his Manchester buddy.

*

_1st Clasico – 2009  
Liga: 1-0 (Ibrahimovic)_

The game had been intense and Cristiano was rightfully drained. The incessant rain he was supposed to be used to was making the loss even harder on his poor muscles. He was simply not in the mood for Gerard Pique, and for a few minutes, he hoped the Catalan had again forgotten about their agreement.

But of course, now that it was a simple league match (Cristiano was yet to understand the magnitude of the Clasico), it seemed that Gerard had time for the losers as well. So when he found himself invited over, he could not back out. If he did now, he'd appear as a sore loser and most importantly, he would lose the opportunity to snub Gerard for the return leg, when he was sure Real would be victorious.

So he accepted and when he knocked at Pique's door later that evening, he found himself fronted with a joyous but not obnoxious Gerard, who gave him a most wonderful, almost professional massage.

They didn't talk about the game, but he was astute enough and knew Gerard well enough to notice the satisfaction in the other man's every word and every grin and every gesture. It was annoying. It made him fume, but he endured it all, for the sake of their friendship.

But once he was leaving, he realised this wasn't the same. They had lost that emotion and their rivalry was solidly standing in the way. The sex has gotten more intense somehow, as if the feelings they could no longer verbally express had found an outlet in their copulation.

At least one thing was good, at least one thing had made the trip worth it, but Cristiano knew that whatever they had would end as soon as he got one over Pique.

_2nd Clasico - 2010  
Liga: 0-2 (Messi & Pedro)_

He couldn't believe the result, he simply couldn't. It was like some sort of farce, because every time he had been close to beating Barcelona something like that happened. He couldn’t explain it, but it hurt. The loss now physically hurt him and he was sorely tempted to just walk past his former United teammate and go home, never look back.

But seeing Gerard, standing out in the middle of his much shorter teammates, he could still feel his tackles, he could feel his body clash against his. The only body that knew his and responded to his so well, he could never find another. There had been something real between them and perhaps he wasn't ready to let go.

He couldn't congratulate him, but Gerard's smile wasn't arrogant when he passed by him on his way to the locker room, so that once again broke Cristiano's resolve to end their relationship right away. He texted him as soon as he could, asking Pique to come by his place later that night.

And when Gerard knocked at the door and they kissed and fondled each other like the old times, it felt real, and Cristiano knew he still needed the connection and that perhaps their agreement was not so bad after all.

If only he could win just once!

Postcoital, with sheets wrapped around them, Gerard and Cristiano pretended there was nothing to talk about, nothing to say. Gerard wasn't keen on leaving just yet and Cristiano was too polite to ask him to.

"How does it feel?" Gerard suddenly voiced his thoughts.

"How does what feel?" Cristiano replied, turning to face his lover.

"To be part of that team, to play in a Clasico?"

Gerard looked at Cristiano with darkening eyes and Cristiano closed his momentarily, feeling the pressure in the temples that had appeared during the game and particularly after it had ended emerge again.

"It feels great." He replied with great effort.

Gerard wasn't satisfied with that answer, because he knew and in fact they both knew what was the right answer. He didn't exactly know what made him want to humiliate his lover, but the sensation was unstoppable.

"Don't you ever think you've made a mistake coming here?" he continued, the glint in his eyes more mischievous than ever.

And Cristiano understood what Gerard was after, but he would not give him the satisfaction, he could not allow Pique to bully him in his own home.

"I think you should go now. Take your bad winner ass out of my bed and out of my house."

Gerard smirked and reaching out to peck him briefly on the lips, he clambered out of the bed and started getting dressed. Cristiano then walked him to the front door.

"So I guess I'll see you next season." Gerard hollered on the way to his car.

Cristiano contended to fold his hands over his chest and allow his frustration to spill out, as he watched the Catalan drive off in the gigantic white Audi. He would get his turn, he knew it.

_3rd clasico – 2010  
Liga: 5-0 (Xavi, Pedro, Villa – 2 & Jeffren)_

Gerard almost forgot to call Cristiano over, and he was way too drunk for sex anyway, but the opportunity of entertaining a pissed off Madridista after the Manita was too good to let it slide. And even if he didn't get a reply to his text message, Cristiano was at his door soon enough to make Gerard understand his lover had made a very quick decision.

"High Five!" he yelled at him as he opened the door, his smile spreading, the laughter emerging out of him unrepressed.

And Cristiano was too mortified and angry to do anything but push Gerard into the wall and kiss him furiously, rough and hard, just like the despicable Catalan so deserved.

He fucked Gerard against the same wall, and he pounded his ass with all his might, to get a much needed release and wash away the bitter sting of the horrible defeat, but in the end, when he was done and Gerard was limp and Cristiano zipped up, the loss was still there and Gerard's smile was still there and his open palm a graver insult than a thousand drunken slurs.

When he left, no later than 20 minutes from his arrival, it was him feeling like a cheap whore and perhaps the sex, especially that kind of sex had not helped at all.

Was there a point to it still? Sometimes he thought there wasn't, Barcelona were just unstoppable and his team, a team he tried his hardest for, just seemed to be pigs for slaughter. If that carried on, he would never get the chance to have the last laugh.

But then again, every dog has its day, so he knew his time would come. Eventually.

_4th clasico – 2011  
Liga: 1-1 (Ronaldo – Messi)_

"Well, looks like you don't always win, Gerard. How do you feel?"

Scoring always made Cristiano feel better and even if a draw was not a victory, it wasn't a loss either. The Clasico psychosis had not gotten to him yet and this draw made him feel a little more confident than usual, which in turn, allowed him to mock Gerard a little.

"That was a dive, and you know it!" Gerard retorted and by the look on his face, he wasn't joking.

"Wait a minute, are you calling me a diver and that I of all people should know one when I see one?" Cristiano yelled as reply, feeling his blood boil and all his serenity dissipate.

Gerard looked at him carefully, he could see the fury in his lover's eyes and he felt that if he said any of the things he wanted to say, it would be over. He'd cross that line he knew he had been toeing all along and Cristiano would make sure to punish him this time.

In a very disturbing way, he cared a lot for their moments together, for how their bodies chose to solve the conflict between their minds and hearts. He couldn't afford to lose Cristiano just because they were rivals.

"No, I'm sorry if you felt I implied that. I only meant that Marcelo dived to win the penalty. It's not a fair result."

Cristiano understood. He had to back off and just get to the pleasurable part of their encounter, the part where it didn't matter that he was a Madridista and the other was a Cule. So they fucked throughout the night, no longer talking, just letting their bodies take over.

_5th clasico – 2011  
Copa del Rey Final: 0-1 (Ronaldo)_

There was no greater glory than to finally be able to put Pique in his place, to finally gloat in his face, like the Catalan had done so many times before. He could choose to ignore him, like Gerard had in Rome, but that would be letting him off the hook too easily.

No, after all the humiliation and how well he had handled himself, Cristiano knew he had to teach Pique a lesson and he simply had to see his face when he showed him the shiny medal his goal had won him.

All the giggles and laughs and smiles shared in the tunnel before the match had started were long forgotten, as Gerard sat slumped against the wall, head in his hands. Cristiano lowered to pat him on the shoulder.

"I'll be waiting."

Gerard looked up to catch Cristiano's glimmering eyes, his smile, his happiness. He could barely refrain himself from punching him, the last person he wanted to see.

He didn't want to go. He couldn't take it, he knew he couldn't. But on the other hand, he had to go. He had to prove Cristiano he was a good sport.

Cristiano awaited, in shorts only, the medal bouncing on his tanned chest whenever he moved around the hotel room. Perhaps Gerard had chickened out and wouldn't come, which would be such a pity.

But after what seemed like hours, there was a knock at the door and Gerard's tall body shouldered past his into the room, jumping face down on the bed.

"I don't want to do this." he said, his voice muffled by the sheets he buried his head in.

"What? What is it now?"

"It's not fair."

"That I win at last? That the wheel has turned? That it's your turn to watch me dance around and mock you? Speak up Gerard, I can't hear you!"

Gerard wasn't going to answer, but Cristiano was running his hands up and down his back and kept talking, making fun of him, of Barca, of Pep and even of Catalunya.

"Shut the fuck up, Ronaldo!" Gerard shot up, pushing Cristiano hard, who almost fell off the bed.

"I see how things are. When you win, I'm supposed to be a good loser and accept your taunting, but when I win, you cannot humour me?"

"It's not that!" Gerard shouted.

"Then what?"

"You don't understand this rivalry. You think it's just a match you win or lose. You think this is just another cup final. But it's not. And it's OK that you don't understand, you're not from here. You're a foreigner. But I am. To me, this is more than just a loss, to me this is more than a game. And I could never accept losing to Madrid, it hurts so much, so much more than any loss."

Perhaps he was right, perhaps he couldn't understand the inner mechanics of a Clasico. But he knew the mechanics of friendship, the innermost workings of love and lovers. They could be that, regardless of the damned rivalry. He had felt it times and times before, so if they wanted to and it they tried, they could still be together.

"But it's us. It doesn't matter what happens on the pitch when we're in bed." and Cristiano took off the medal, dropping it to the floor and reached over to kiss Gerard.

"I'm sorry, but it does matter. It matters to me." Gerard pushed him again, this time not as hard.

Getting up he walked towards the door, trying to regain his self control. He had miscalculated and he couldn't allow this to continue, no matter how much he cared for Cristiano. His passion for Barca was bigger than anything.

"So, that's it? The damn rivalry breaks us apart?" Cristiano's tone was cold, resigned.

Gerard looked at him from the doorway, one hand already on the doorknob. He felt terrible for ending it like that, but the pain over losing a lover was drowned in the greater pain he felt, the ache of the Copa loss.

"Congrats for the Copa." he said quickly before exiting.

Pursing his lips, Cristiano Ronaldo picked the medal up and staring at it for a few seconds, he threw it across the room, where it bounced off the wall and fell without a sound on the thick carpet. He started getting ready for the triumphant return trip to Madrid.

**Author's Note:**

> \- title from Tool's Schism  
\- written post 2011 Copa del Rey Final


End file.
